A Tribe Called Quest - Black Spasmodic lyrics

Yo, y'all ready? Yo, Phife, you ready?
Cons, you got that part, right? A'ight
(I dunno but it don’t matter who
Choose to set it off
ATCQ, no doubt my niggas is boss
Little half-ass rappers, y’all pissin’ me off
Time to dead ‘em all off, yo
No matter the cost)

(Black) They don’t make thugs of this caliber
(Spasmodic) Who kept up the
Buzz the whole calendar
(Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger
(Spasmodic) Used to keep guns
With the silencers
(Black) They don’t make thugs of this caliber
(Spasmodic) Who kept up a
Buzz the whole calendar
(Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger
(Spasmodic) Now look what he
Does to any challenger

Now who want it with the Trini gladiator?
Mid finger to you haters
You biters not innovators
I take zero for granted, I honors my gift
Champion pen game
Plus I’m freestyle equipped
You clowns be bum sauce, speak my name
It’s curtains
Hamdulillāh, my crew’s back to workin'
Trash rap the dead, pussy kill the chirping
No more fuck boys, sit down
Shit can only get worse and how do you touch
Mic with flows uncertain?
Speak game dry, boy, that flow ain’t workin'
Folks throwin' items, them vex and cursin'
Fuck made me wanna see
These niggas in person?
Third song in, motherfuckers dispersin'
Only to realize Donald Juice in the buildin'
Big tune this for man, woman, and children
Back on my bullshit
Busta Bus' then we kill them

(Black) They don’t make thugs of this caliber
(Spasmodic) Who kept up the
Buzz the whole calendar
(Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger
(Spasmodic) Used to keep guns
With the silencers

My nigga spirit be talkin' to me
Let me explain
Not through evil mediums, tarot cards
And Ouija games
But through mixing chords and boards
And even drum machines he be saying:
"Nigga fuck awards, keep reppin’ Queens"
And don’t be taking slack from
These non rapping niggas, man
That intellectual shit you spit
You better change your plan
Especially when you see 'em at
The lobby of a label
And they don’t seem able
To outstretch they hands and admit they fans
You better flame 'em in the
J's that they standing in
Ostracize they memory for not remembering
The articles reduce their body
Parts to particles and dust the Dead Sea
With their cremated molecules i’m leaving
But nigga you still got the work to do
I expect the best from you
I’m watching from my heaven view
Don’t disappoint me
Make sure that they anoint me
As the blue ribbon pedigree
The best of show, five-foot-three
Speak of the legacy for short
People around the world
Napoleonic, bionic people who cause
The world to twirl
Rip every stage with grace
Look right dead in they face
Live the Tribe principle of
Havin' impeccable taste
Enjoy that breath like that one
Was your last one left
If you don’t believe me, Tip
There’s truly life after death
So refer to the Biggie covers
And shoutout my Trini brothers
And please check in on my mother
Malik Izaak, call me shorty"
(Black) They don’t make thugs of this caliber
(Spasmodic) Who kept up the
Buzz the whole calendar
(Black) Used to sell drugs out the Challenger
(Spasmodic) Used to keep guns
With the silencers (Black, Spasmodic)